In a Dark Wood Read Online Free PDF

racked.”
    â€œMy man has a new method. I’m very curious as to its effectiveness.”
    Baldwin held forth his cup. “You have my curiosity aroused.”
    Good, thought Geoffrey. He poured more wine and wrestled the conversation to nostalgia, tales of Geoffrey’s father in the old king’s court, tales of shattered lances and sweaty horses, the sort of story Geoffrey always pretended to enjoy. The pretense was always successful, and Baldwin drank wine, growing red and deeper-voiced, describing a siege engine, and a boulder shot from a catapult, and a helmet crushed like an egg so the brains ran like yolk.
    Baldwin used the London word for egg, ey , not the local eyren , his speech reminding Geoffrey of all that was soft about London and all that was coarse about this place.
    When Baldwin had been escorted, reeling, down the hall, Geoffrey sent for Henry, his chief deputy. Henry huffed into the room and seized the edge of the table to keep from falling. “Is it all right, sire?”
    Geoffrey used a gesture Baldwin had just used, a flick of the hand. It was elegant. He did it again.
    â€œGod’s Lips, sire, why is he here?”
    â€œDon’t worry, Henry. You’re all flushed.”
    â€œI ran up the stairs.”
    â€œWe needn’t panic. The visit was sudden but not unpleasant.”
    â€œI’ll tell the men to relax. We were so worried—”
    Geoffrey was touched at their loyalty, although of course, a new sheriff would need new men. “Henry.” The sound of a man’s name did have a strange effect on him. It silenced and drew attention like a dirk from its scabbard. “Henry, I need the name of that highwayman.”
    â€œHighwayman, sire?”
    â€œThat—you know the one. The one that waylays people as a prank. Collects a toll from them. As a joke.” Geoffrey hated jokes. Even as a boy he had hated those boys in the back pew who made fart noises as a hefty franklin sat down. Geoffrey’s response to a joke was to overlook it. He had overlooked this prankster on the High Way, knowing that he was less a robber than a jester.
    â€œYes,” said Henry, “I’ve heard of him.”
    â€œWhat do people call him?”
    Henry bunched his mouth, searching his memory. “I think they call him Robin.”
    â€œRobin.”
    â€œI remember: Robin Hood.”
    â€œRobin Hood,” Geoffrey repeated, with emphasis on the second name.
    â€œYes, I think so, sire. Do you mean that he is what all of this is about?”
    â€œI know. It’s amazing. I’ve ignored him as an unimportant nuisance. That was a blunder. He is a speck in the eye of the king, and he must be removed.”
    Henry backed towards the door. “I’ll have him in no time at all.”
    â€œHim,” said Geoffrey, “or his head. Either will do.”

6
    The abbess looked up from the page in her hands. Geoffrey bowed courteously. “Madame Emily,” he said, “how can I possibly be of service?”
    â€œMy dear Geoffrey, it’s so pleasant to see you. I am afraid my mission is a bit mundane.”
    â€œPray elaborate.”
    â€œPigs.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œAn invasion of them, just like last June.” She laughed through her nose, like a Frenchwoman. “Certainly you remember that, how they rummaged through the hedge and were so terribly naughty, even when we threw stones.”
    â€œI remember,” he said softly. He had not seen her since that afternoon, nearly four months ago. Her gray habit was crisp and new, and a band of coral ran round her wrist. Every eleventh bead of her rosary was jade, and a golden brooch hung from the beads, engraved with the letter A . Round the peak of the A ran a crown, and in fine letters, he knew, having come close to it all those months ago, were the words Amor Vincit Omnia .
    â€œA very interesting picture,” said Madame Emily.
    He stepped to her side and